


On Wings, Swift and Silent

by QueenOfPlotTwists



Series: Yu-Gi-Oh June 2020 Prompts [22]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Kleptoshipping - Freeform, Lemon scene between two hot boys, M/M, Thief King Bakura | Yami Bakura Has His Own Body, Yaoi, Yu-Gi-Oh June Prompt Challenge 2020, Yugi is a writer, high school sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24904300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfPlotTwists/pseuds/QueenOfPlotTwists
Summary: Secret published author, Yugi Motou, starts high school year with his best friend Ryou and his darkly lustrous boyfriend Bakura who understands him and his artistic passion in ways no one else can. Of course, there's more to Bakura than meets the eye.Yu-Gi-Oh June Prompts Challenge 2020Week Four: Air/Day 24: Silence
Relationships: Yami Bakura/Mutou Yuugi
Series: Yu-Gi-Oh June 2020 Prompts [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770298
Kudos: 10





	On Wings, Swift and Silent

**Author's Note:**

> This one was another challenge but it demanded something dark and mysterious so I went with the inspiration I got from the Priscilla Herendezous song "Underliving" (love her music)
> 
> This idea was something I spent the whole day playing around with and probably would've finished it sooner if I wasn't so distracted by all the possible ideas I had.
> 
> Rated for Kleptoshipping and lemon!
> 
> Yu-Gi-Oh June Prompts Challenge 2020
> 
> Week Four: Air/Day 24: Silence

On Wings, Swift and Silent

"Storytellers ought not to be too tame. They ought to be wild creatures who function adequately in society. They are best in disguise. If they lose all their wildness, they cannot give us the truest joys."

\- Ben Okri

Yugi glared at the sadistically caterwauling alarm clock with the same look of betrayal as he had his laptop the night earlier, when the dreaded white screen of blankness refused to yield to the creative impulse burning like smoldered embers ready to devour earth and air and rise to life as flames of his fidgeting fingers. Sadly, the effort earned him nothing but another night of only two hours sleep and a dreaded anxiety made worse by the screeching banshee wail that was his alarm clock. He beat the damn thing into submission and forced himself into the shower to finish what the alarm clock had already started.

The gush of water, first hot than gold was a welcome relief against this gritty skin and anxious muscles, however brief. He towel-dried the long spikes of red and raven black hair finger combed the golden forelock but otherwise spared it no other attention. It would spike up into its natural flame shape once it dried. Washed, dried and dressed in an assemble his classmates would doubtless shun a “gothic” he stuffed the tablet-laptop and case into his school bag and barely managed to catch the bus as he ran out. Breakfast, a fleeting dream.

Another day at Domino High. Another day he wished he was home, or at the library, or even sitting under a tree at the park with his notebook pouring over the words and notes that would become his next work of fiction.

He wasn’t surprised when no one sat next to him on the bus. Rather than look offended, he leaned back in the seat propped his knees up against the leather and pulled out his notebook, content to sketch or just jot down thoughts in hopes of clearing his writer’s block, saying nothing when other kids threw insults. The popular girls and cheerleaders stared at him with conspiratorial giggles behind their oh-so-friendly smiles. One of his bullies made some stupid slut joke, taking his black clothes, before laughing. Yugi just smirked, noting each and every one of them gushing over _Prophecy of Dark Realms_ , wondering their reactions if they learned their purchase contributed to his royalty, and was almost tempted to ruin it for them. But he kept silent, content to keep the game and joke going longer.

When the bus arrived, and he found himself once more walking the streets of Domino High, copies of his book that had just come out earlier that summer in so many hands—ironically, most of them the ones of those who disliked or feared him most—he couldn’t help but feel vindicated even empowered in the silent secret. None of them wise to the fact that Yami Murasaki was none other than Aisling Yugi Motou. He could’ve laughed, it was so funny.

He never understood his classmates dislike of him. He’d been here for years, had known and gone to school with these people since freshmen year. And yet as they formed their cliques and circles of friends, he’d been either ignored or detested. Few were ever hostile, but no one save two had ever been anything close to warm or fuzzy. It should’ve bothered him, and maybe once it did, but that had been when he was a shy, lonely freshmen desperate for some form of attention, or even love. It was his orphan’s craving. Grateful as he was for the Grandfather who adopted him after the heartbreaking death of his only daughter, and much as Yugi, too, loved and respected the man, it was a different kind of love he’d craved: acceptance, understanding, perhaps even affection. It had taken him time to understand they were not the same thing, and he was almost relieved he had not fallen victim to some trap of a BFF who saw him as nothing more than a servant or extension of himself, kind and fun only when they were obeyed and bullying into submission when they were denied.

Writing had been his salvation and his atonement. There was exuberance in the silence of self-expression, be it words or painting or crocheting. A power and freedom and confidence only those also in possession of an Artistic soul could understand. In not only accepting one’s inner mystery and power and dark beauty but embracing it. Writing had done that for him…and someone else.

He was waiting for him when Yugi arrived at his first class, occupying a seat in the back of the room where Yugi usually sat, leaning back in his chair, boots propped up on the desk. A long spiky mane of blizzard white hair curled around a darkly handsome face, sharp and full of angles. The color coupled with the paleness of his frosty skin only served to accentuate the darkness of those sharp deep burgundy eyes, the color like dried blood. He grinned when he saw Yugi, looking every inch an untouchable dark god in charcoal gray acid-wash jeans, a black vampire-like trench coat and a solid black T-shirt depicting the white outline of a Grim reaper face complete with scythes around which white words spelled out: I stopped fighting my demons. We’re on the same side now.

Grinning, Yugi plopped his backpack on the desk next to him, mindful of his tablet inside and sat on the desk. “This isn’t your homeroom, Bakura.”

“You’re point?” He crossed a leg over his knee.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” He knew the man’s answer before he even said it.

“I’m always in trouble, so why bother.”

Yugi snorted and shook his head with an appreciative smile. “So what brings you here? I thought you were done with High school?”

“I am,” Bakura boasted, proudly, rearranging himself so that he was not sitting with his chin in his palms. Then he shrugged. “Just thought I’d come and keep you company on your first day since, you know, you and my brother have different classes this year.”

Yugi’s eyes widened in surprise. Ryou, Bakura’s younger brother, a relationship he has not learned until much later after he’d met them both, and Yugi had become close friends sophomore year after some misunderstanding hurdles that included Yugi mistaking the overly friendly boy’s instant gravitation towards him as pity, something of which Yugi had _no_ patience for, and Ryou misreading Yugi’s silence and solitude and snarkiness as legitimate mean-spiritedness. It might have gone on that way forever had the two not be paired up together for a project in their English class—they were the only ones who didn’t have a partner. Not long after their art teacher, sensing kindred souls in them both with that keen eye all true artists possessed, assigned their seats across from each other. Yugi had been content to ignore him until he noticed the horror comic Ryou had been sketching and asked to see it. The conversation that followed sealed their friendship for the years to come: including a shared love of all things horror, occult and dark fantasy.

Where is Ryou?” Yugi asked taking the seat next to him and sat backwards on his chair. “He wasn’t out front this morning, like he usually is?”

Bakura shrugged. “They fucked with his schedule. He noticed it yesterday when he got it in the mail and noticed certain classes he shouldn’t be taking until next semester, last I saw he was still with his Guidance Counselor getting it fixed. But enough about him.” He swooped forward not unlike a vampire and whispered in Yugi’s ear. “How’s it feel being a published author and knowing all these pricks who make fun of you have no idea they’re gushing over _your_ work.”

Yugi smirked acutely aware of the glares he was now getting and emboldened by it, leaned p as if he was going to kiss the man and let them all think he wasn’t. “It feels ex-fucking-hilerating.”

Bakura smirk curled not unlike a snake’s when Yugi pulled away, violet eyes, lustrous and dark. His smile vivacious and promising things. A smile that lured stupid fools to their deaths like moths to flames, beauty, both dark and mesmerizing even as it promised destruction.

“When do you have lunch?” Bakura whispered, salaciously.

“Before third period,” Yugi replied, licking his lips for effect.

“Good,” the man breathed. “Meet me on the roof.” With that he rose like a vampire from sleep and started out the door, the black tail of his cloak billowing like wings behind him as he swaggered for the door, commanding the attention of all the room until he vanished like smoke and mists in the dark of night beyond the door.

Dreamy-eyed and oblivious, Yugi ignored the plethora of glares—mostly from girls, who made no effort to hide their jealous hatred, though a few boys gave him stares of disappointment as if their approval had anything akin to merit—directed his way upon the man’s departure.

Pulling out his notebook, Yugi immediately started jotting down ideas, notes even whole sentences. By the time the teacher arrived and homeroom began, he’d even managed a few paragraphs of what he could easily see becoming a short story of some kind, maybe even more. It might not have been the project he was currently working on, but it was a start.

He barely remembered to raise his hand when the teacher called his name during attendance.

X X X

Lunch could not come fast enough for Yugi. He’d fidgeted all through first and second period, glaring at the wall clock as if he could somehow intimidate time to move faster. It didn’t work, of course, but it had helped. In truth he didn’t even need to bother with High School anymore. He’d finished all his requirements and general education credits last year and if he’d wanted all he needed was his Grandfather’s permission and he could get his high school equivalency and diploma right now, but he’d stayed on because there were classes he was generally interested in that he thought could help his future writing career. Unfortunately most of them didn’t start until the second semester, the only ones of interested this semester was his Creative Writing and Advanced Level History course. Both of which weren’t until the afternoon. _After_ the promised reunion with Bakura.

As poor Yugi soldiered on through Physics and another class he didn’t remember, until the blessed bell rung of promised freedom. He took off like he’d sprouted wings of his own up the steps to the third floor, nearly forgetting his precious backpack in the process. He shoved open the roof top door like it was a portal to another dimension where, as promised, his darkly handsome boyfriend, minus his shirt was sitting. His white skin and hair all but glowing in the sun, not sparkling but glowing as if bathed in some ghostly ethereal light, spoke of a world far beyond this one. Leaning back on one hand, the other on his hip so that the whole of sculpted chest took up the totality of Yugi’s vision, the jeans pulled down to reveal the seductive v of his hips and a darkly charming smile accompanied lecherous eyes. Yugi was an absolute sucker for the vanity. He dropped his bag at his feet, but made no move to move. Rather he leaned against the propped door a teasingly smile on his face, his eyes half-lidded and a hand over his heart like a trollop waiting to be seduced by a lover.

Bakura was perfectly willing to play the part.

Yugi didn’t know how long he lied there, half naked and sprawled out on top of Bakura’s trench coat with his jeans around his ankles, his shirt pushed up and the man himself inside of him. All he knew was the stars exploding behind his eyes, the way his spine arched whenever he’d found that certain spot, the quivering of his thighs and those strong hands upon them, stroking them; the desperate arch of his hips determined to meet every thrush inside of him and keep the distance between them as minimal as possible. The way bliss liquefied his body every time he came and indescribable satisfactory feeling of having the other’s essence spilling inside him, drowning him, marking him, claiming him, branding him with his heat.

At one point they must’ve rolled over, and Bakura’d allowed Yugi to ride him because when he woke up again, not remembering when he’d fallen asleep, his face was pressed against the sculpted muscles of that warm, firm chest, the other’s fingers toying with his hair and his cock still hot and heavy and exhilarating inside him. Rising to meet his eyes, Yugi kissed him. Though he was no longer hard, Bakura still was, and ever the generous lover, Yugi slowly, started to move, rocking his hips back and forth in his lover’s laps and all but shuddering at the feel of the other’s glorious heat rubbing against him. He struggled, at first, so consumed, but ever the compassionate type, (only, of course, when it came to taming Yugi), Bakura supported his own hips, gently but eagerly coaxing the boy into a rhythm that matched his own hips thrusting up inside him. Yugi’s hands found his chest, looking down at the way those dark eyes both fogged, dazed with delight and burned with the smoldering embers of passion and wondered if Bakura could see his own reflected there. Heat pooling in his belly, her threw his arms around the man’s neck and kissed him. Bakura returned the gesture, wrapping an arm around the slip waist as his pace quickened. Yugi wanted so much to finish like that, with their lips conjoined and in his lover’s arms, but alas he could not contain the moans, or the scream of pleasure that arched his back when he at last found completion. He collapsed in Bakura’s arms moaning all the more as he rose out the unparalleled heat of his lover’s release.

They stayed like that, Yugi barely having the strength to lift himself free of his love’s shaft, though both his body and soul protested the loss, less they stay like this all day and he missed the rest of his classes. Yugi was content to stay like that forever. Instead he collapsed again and relished in the warmth of the other’s arms. The gentle way Bakura’s played with his hair and the way his chest riveted when he hummed, as were his tells after sex. Only _he_ would ever get to see him like this: relaxed, content, at peace. Bakura could’ve slept with the entirety of the school, and Yugi would not have cared so long as he was the only one with the privilege to be there now.

“So…” the man finally spoke in a voice absent his usual crass and sarcasm. Now his baritone was low and relaxed as thunder rolling over the hills. “Writer’s block still plaguing you?”

Yugi sat up, and he looked into owlish eyes. “How did you know I was having writer’s block?” he asked surprised.

Bakura grinned and tapped Yugi’s nose with a long finger. “Because, I know you. You didn’t have to say it, but I can tell.”

Yugi smiled and lied back down. “Sort of. I started taking down notes for another idea I came up with that I’m really into so that’s something.”

“Wanna tell me about it?” Bakura asked, earnestly curious.

Yugi chuckled. “Don’t you get bored listening to me talk all the time?”

“Never in a million years,” Bakura declared boldly. “I adore everything you artistic you do.”

Yugi smiled knowing it for truth. It was how they’d met. They’d shared an intense passion for all things artistic, whether it was books, writing, comics, painting, sculpture, foreign architecture or mosaics. Bakura’s preferred method of art was cooking and acrylics, which had surprised Yugi. He’d expected him to be more into graffiti or chalk, but no, the boy’s second love (Yugi was the first as he said constantly) was folk art and fantasy paintings, in all its dark and whimsical forms. His first passion project had been a series depicting members of his family in the form of dark fantasy creatures. Yugi’s personal favorite was the one of his mother of whom he’d inherited his white hair and dark eyes, depicted as the Raven Queen donning a cloak of shimmering, iridescent black feathers. And yet all he ever wanted to hear about was Yugi.

This man who embraced his wildness and creativity, adored his passion and his spirit, loved him and saw the real him behind the mask where everyone else but Ryou saw an outsider, someone who didn’t belong among them.

He rose slowly, and started pulling up his jeans. “Did I ever tell you how I got inspired to write my novel?”

“ _On Wings, swift and silent_? Or the other one you told me about?” Bakura asked, buttoning his jeans, not having need to pull them down.

“All of them,” Yugi asked, now fully dressed and resumed him position in his lap.

“Hmmm,” he pretended to ponder and Yugi knew he remembered every word, but sensing his need to reminisce he answered. “Will you enlighten me?”

Rearranging himself, so his head was pillowed by Bakura’s legs he smiled. “It was because I always wished I was more than human. Ever since I was a kid, I didn’t know who my parents were or who my mom was and it always made me curious. So sometimes, when I was mad at Grandpa I’d lock myself in my room and pretend I was some princess locked away in a tower and that my real mom would come and rescue me.”

“I trust you got bored of that real quick?” Bakura said it like a joke but there was an undertone of seriousness.

“Yeah,” Yugi chuckled. “After that I started wondering what if I was actually some dark fairy prince or powerful witch or someone from another world and that Grandpa was meant to me my mentor and protector until I was ready to return. But I got tired of waiting so I decided to come up with a different idea.”

“I thought you told me it came to you in a dream?” Bakura teased, with mock accusatory.

“It did!” Yugi protested with a laugh. “But it started out with those ideas. I just finally stopped thinking who or what were they and finally started thinking of what I could be or what I wanted to be and realized I could be anything.”

Bakura grinned, saying nothing. He didn’t have to. “Do you still wish you were more than human?”

“Hell no,” Yugi admitted, sitting up and leaning into him. “I mean don’t get me wrong I’d totally love to be a dark fairy or something cool like that, but here I am, a high school senior, a published author, I have the best boyfriend in the world, and I have nothing but possibilities in front of me. I’m never gonna give that up!”

Watching the way his eyes lit up with untamable fires, Bakura could only grin.

They could’ve stayed up there for hours if the lunch bell hadn’t rang. Yugi groaned as he got up, surprisingly energetic for a boy going on 2 hours sleep and at least two sounds of mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex.

“You okay?” Bakura asked, following him.

“Yeah,” he promised. “We used lube. I’ll be fine.”

Bakura pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead and flashed a saucy wink. “Just checking.” He threw his trench coat over his shoulders with a woosh of wind and disappeared into the shadows down the steps. Yugi watched him go, admiring the way he moved and disappeared. He was about to follow when something shimmery caught his eyes.

Picking it up, he saw it was an iridescent black feather, smooth and beautiful and light as air in his hand. Grinning with wonderment, he pocketed it and headed down the stairs to his next class.

X X X

Yugi wasn’t bothered at all that his Creative Writing class was canceled. Study Hall gave him time to work on his next book. Whatever block had hindered him before suddenly gave way to an unending flow of works as his fingers danced across the computer keys with fervent abandon. He would probably only end up using half of them, or scrapping them all together, but for now Yugi let the words flow though him unending and unobstructed knowing he could always go back and edit them later.

When he finally finished, he sat back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction so fierce he collapsed from it.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

Yugi spun to see Ryou sitting at the computer next to him.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough. I didn’t want to disturb you while you were on such a hot streak.”

“Thanks,” Yugi chuckled then noticed. “Are you in Study hall now? Bakura said your schedule got screwed up.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Ryou groaned. “I don’t know how but some idiot put me in Pre-Calc, _then_ Math B 2 when I was supposed to take Calc _next_ semester _and_ they thought I dropped my Advanced History class. So, yeah, it was a morning.” Then he grinned. “But good news, now it’s all sorted, it looks like we’ll be having a few classes together again.”

“Sweet,” Yugi cheered.

“So what’s this one you’re working on?” Ryou asked curious.

“Well, I got two actually. This morning I was thinking and I came up with a new idea about a girl who’s half fairy half human but grew up in the fairy court of her mother not realizing she looks different from them or that they’re only their because her human father tricked them all to make himself some kind of king character but she rebelled against him, escaped an ten gets caught as part of the Wild Hunt for the Wild King whose the shapeshifting leader and ruler of all the wild forest fae and all that who is impressed by her and decided to make her his queen.”

“Sounds exciting!” Ryou said, eyes wide.

“Yeah, but I’m still figuring out the plot and stuff,” Yugi admitted, “But I also got inspiration for the new novel I’m working on so that’s awesome. I was so blocked on that. I think I’m gonna call it _The Dimness_.”

“Nice!” Ryou hooted, as an artist and storyteller himself, he knew all too well, the horrors of block. “Take it my brother helped with that?”

Yugi didn’t even try to hide his shit-eating just-had-mind-blowingly-awesome-sex look. “May-be” He sang, melodiously.

Ryou laughed, with a grimace. “Forget it, I don’t want to know.”

X X X

Bakura thoroughly enjoyed reading what Yugi’d written so far. It was rare Yugi let anyone else see what he was working on before it was finished but he knew Bakura would always give him an unbiased opinion. So as his little lover slept (determined to at least _try_ and get a full night’s sleep at least once this week), wrapped up unwittingly in Bakura’s own cloak of feathers, Bakura devoured each word of prose with ravenous delight.

Seemed the dream he’d sent Yugi the night before had helped him to organize his jumbled thoughts and Bakura was delighted. Yugi was splendidly artistic and even now showed the signs of a mature and magnificent writer. Though Bakura was a bit bias, to him everything Yugi did was wonderful. The boy had a wealth of creativity and passion for everything he did: he loved to cook, he crocheted because he liked trying new things, he couldn’t draw but found he’d enjoyed making mosaics because they were so much like puzzles and this led to him dabbling in silhouette art. Everything he did was done with vision and inspiration, very rarely did Bakura ever need to offer his own, save to help organize the jumbled thoughts of his wild imagination, in hopes of helping him see them clearly. Bakura was always thrilled to that extra nudge, bringing ou the absolute best in his wild, little lover. Most often the boy simply needed to get out of his own head. As was the key issues with most genius.

As a Lianhan Sidhe, the child of a Raven witch and a Vampire King, Bakura, of all creatures, should know. Like all Fae, he adored art but as a Lianhan Sidhe, often demonized as a life force sucking vampire at worst and a terrifying embodiment of creativity, art, and magic at best, understood well the duality and emotion that came with beauty in all its forms: the passionate colors and ferocious brush stroked across a canvas, the ethereal emotion and symbolism poured into every word written and typed on a page, the love and story that went into ever stitch and weave of embroidery or fashion. Their true purpose revealed in the creative works of those they inspired: inspiring love and despair, longing and desire.

It was an interesting symbiosis, one that had surprised Bakura as much as it had everyone else, for he was indeed a creature attracted to passion and the beautiful life force of artists, always generous and willing to pay for his food with inspiration to drive his victims to new heights of creative passion. He had always meant to fall in love with Yugi, after all, for his kind, to love, was symbiotic with to feed upon as he had with so many other artists before him. But with Yugi, something was different, from the moment they met, this tortured emotional mess with all the world at his fingertips and who poured out his very soul into the words he wrote, spoke to the duality of Bakura’s own nature in a way that made him reconsidered everything he’d ever known before about the emotions he’d called love and desire.

Somehow the thought of depriving the world of this boy, of his beauty in terms of his talent and his grace, felt like the worst of all sins. To deny him the assistance he needed, however rare it was, felt like a betrayal of the art he loved so much, and so Bakura had stayed and learned for the first time what it was truly like to love another person the way he’d always loved and admired and understood art. It was a feeling both new and terrifying and yet even as he inspired Yugi, it was Yugi with his never ending spirit and silent defiance and bold, colorful, complicated personality that drove him to artistic heights the likes of which he’d never imagined.

Even now as he sat there reading Yugi’s work, his notebook was already bursting with sketches of a new series he could not wait to try, all but bursting with inspiration at Yugi’s comments of “becoming anything”. A whole magical world of Yugis: Yugi as a woodland queen, a crown of roses in his hair, his gown the green gauze of spring sewn with flowers, a tender smile upon his cheeks as he sang to the flowers. Yugi as a naja, lying lazily in the sun, light glittering off his pale skin and deep violet scales diamoned with black and yellow and crimson. Yugi as a selkie, sitting on the beach, eyes big and wide and curious like a seals, the spotted seal skin wrapped ever so salaciously around his shoulders, though his expression that of curious innocents. Yugi as a mermaid, a _true_ mermaid, perched atop a rock with his back arched in desire, pale blue and purple scales to accentuate the dark pools of his eyes pulled into a ruthlessly seductive smirk, a beckoning curl and twist of his body, excited to lure stupid men to their deaths. Yugi as a raven queen, black swings spread and fluttering swift and silent as the coming night and the glowing heart of his lover betwixt his talons, eyes glowing ravenously as his fanged lips parted eager to devour his prize.

That one he would do first.

His mother would love it.

He hadn’t introduced Yugi to her yet, having decided long ago, he wanted to edge Yugi gently into the truth, less it overwhelm him as it had so many others, hence the reason for Bakura’s cynical nature, but Yugi had curved his habits, and Bakura wanted nothing more than for them both to live a long and luxurious life together in happiness and artistic bliss.

And if Yugi ever changed his mind about wanting to be something more than human, well, Fae had their ways of making sure their mortal mates lived long. And his mother _was_ quite a powerful witch.

He could imagine the two of them getting along and torturing Bakura with all the embarrassing stories of his childhood.

And if he ever did need to snack, or feed, and needed to make damn sure, he didn’t feed on Yugi accidentally, well, there were plenty of other ways to do that.

**Author's Note:**

> So this one was a fun idea and I had a lot of fun ideas for it. For starters Bakura is a Lianhne sidhe because I thought if a dark Faery/witch and a vampire had a child viola! Though the oldest account of the Lianhne sidhe is the fairy vampire muses created by Yeats (whose accounts were infamously in accurate) 
> 
> Regardless, it fit my needs. So I may play with the idea that Yugi is an author inspired by both his lack of origin and his clear dreams, unaware these are prophetic and that he himself is in fact the child of a powerful witch (aka Atem who changes his name to Yami when he is turned into a vampire) and that his boyfriend is a Lainhe Sidhe until Bakura and Ryou, also a dark faery come clean. I imagined the story as him meeting them early when his stories are actually accounts of events he sees in his dreams and some witches and fae who don't want their secrets out come to investigate him and while he gets into a rough patch with Ryou they bond, and he is instantly attracted to Bakura who encourages his talent and though peeved at first that Bakura lied to him (and kinda flattered his talent was enough to want to be eaten) he eventually forgives him. Of course there are other characters who are there to "protect him" from the "dark influences" of the fae, but I've always been attracted to the concept of the protagonist going "to the dark side" in horror, so I definitely wanna play around with it.


End file.
